Subway Savior

I have been riding New York City subways since I came here as a young man in the 1980's, so I have seen some things best forgotten.

But in the past 10 years after becoming disabled by a massive stroke, and having trouble walking, I have seen a lot more memorable events, on nearly every trip.

I ride the A train the most, from Washington Heights to the NYU area often.  I have trouble walking and no feeling and little movement on my left side.  As sitting to standing is problematic, and slow, I often do not take a seat when offered, especially if only a few stops (except of course in that long stretch from 125th street to Columbus circle).  I usually get up and stand by the doors a stop before I have to get off to be sure I can exit easily and avoiding walking on the moving car.  I know the trains in Manhattan well enough to generally know on which side the doors will open.

About two weeks ago, I was riding the C train (I think) and experienced something that all riders rightfully fear.

I was standing at the door, holding on to a pole and my cane with my right hand, ready to exit as soon as the doors opened.

When the train stopped I heard and felt the packed crowd close behind me start moving.

At the moment the doors opened, a self-important man in a suit pushed his way through, saying nothing but leaving some very angry people in his wake.

He got to the door by pushing people aside, and the next thing I knew he pushed me out the door and I fell down flat onto the platform; when I looked back I saw that my legs were still in the car.  As I heard "watch the closing doors", my brain did those quick calculations that it does in sudden danger.  Should I try to pull my legs out, and if the doors closed on them, how would I contort myself to avoid the wall at the end of the platform when the train started down the track.  Or should I attempt to pull myself back in, risking my torso or head sticking out the doors.

Meanwhile, Mr. They-can't-start-the-meeting-without-me stepped over me and ran off, looking back and yelling testily,"thanks for getting out of the way!".  I could see only his Versace-clad legs churning off into the distance.  I turned back to look in the car, my experiencing that micro-moment of utter confusion and panic. 

 

I glanced up and saw a huge, mean-looking young black man, extending his meaty fist to me like a gargantuan god reaching down from the heavens.  He graabbed my right arm and yanked me into the car with one huge but smooth motion.  A few people around him helped get me to my feet.  I felt like hugging him -- but that seemed a little weird, even for the subway.

The doors closed and I got off at the next stop.

Only in New York.